


Keep Me From The Storm

by themayqueen



Series: Kiss With A Fist [2]
Category: Hanson (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Fucked Up, Incest, Jealousy, Kissing, Love Bites, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 06:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5487218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themayqueen/pseuds/themayqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taylor’s doing it again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Me From The Storm

Taylor’s doing it again.

As I nurse my drink—the only one I’m allowing myself tonight—I watch him. I always watch him. I watched him for years before he noticed, and even once he did, it hardly changed his behavior. He’s still the biggest flirt I’ve ever seen, and every time I’m forced to see him in action, it makes my blood boil.

It’s jealousy. I know that’s all it is. But putting a name to it doesn’t make the feeling go away.

As I watch Taylor throw back some glowing blue shot with an equally glowing girl in a low cut dress, I decide that I’m done playing by my own rules. It’s time to play by Taylor’s instead. I motion to a passing waitress and ask her to bring me something strong. I don’t care what it is; I just need it to burn the jealousy and timidity out of me.

It takes a few more shots before I feel free to look at anything or anyone that isn’t my maddening, intoxicating brother. Some dark haired little hipster looking thing has been eyeing me all night and up to this point I’ve ignored him well enough. It’s time for that to end, I decide, and motion for my new waitress friend to send a drink his way as well.

Once the shot glass is in his hand and a matching one in mine, I saunter toward him. He’s cute enough, I suppose; he looks like the type Taylor would go after. He gives me a shy smile when he realizes I’m the one vying for his attention now. 

I don’t really feel like playing any more flirting games, though, at least no more than absolutely necessary. I throw my shot back, set the glass aside and motion for him to do the same. He does, giving a cute little half-cough as he swallows the liquor down. I barely give him time to breathe before I move in, crushing my mouth against his. It isn’t the most graceful or talented of kisses, but it’s designed for show. 

Somewhere, my brother is watching… I hope. And if he is, he’s going to get one hell of a show. If he’s not, then for once, I’m going to get someone who might be grateful to have me. Either way, I win.

When Taylor doesn’t immediately materialize, I realize I’m going to have to draw this out, make small talk. I paste on my best smile, the one I use for fans, and ask his name. Darren. As though I’m going to remember that. 

To my surprise, he’s the one to suggest we find somewhere more private, and that somewhere turns out to be a little alcove next to the mens room. All of these clubs Taylor chooses are the same, really. I’m just surprised no one else is already using said alcove, and I’m especially surprised not to see my brother there. It makes my blood boil again to even think of him, and so I force myself into another kiss with Darren just for the distraction. 

The worst part, I think, is that I love Taylor just as much as I hate him. 

For years, all I wanted was his approval. To be more than just his goofy little brother. It took me a long time to realize how much more, and once I did, we were both in too deep to ever consider getting out. Whether it ever meant as much to Taylor as it did to me… I don’t know. I don’t dare ask. All I know is that he’s constantly pushing the limits, testing his boundaries, and I fear that if I don’t give him a taste of his own medicine for once, I’ll reach _my_ limit.

I don’t want to snap. But I can feel the thread fraying even as I back Darren against the wall and shove my tongue down his throat.

He’s all wrong, though. He’s too short, too feisty and too willing. But Darren was never the one I wanted, and I almost feel bad for using him like this. Almost. It doesn’t stop me from sliding my hand to the front of his pants and cupping the erection that I’m not at all surprised to find. 

Darren freezes, his eyes focused on a point just over my shoulder, and I have to stop myself from breaking out in a smirk. I know before I turn around that my little plot has worked. My new little boytoy wiggles out from between me and the wall as I spin around to face Taylor.

“What the hell, Zac?” Taylor asks.

“Surely you’re familiar with the phrase ‘taste of your own medicine?’”

Taylor shakes his head. He looks like he’s going to say something, but then he just shakes a hand dismissively and walks away. I watch him disappear back into the crowd, feeling my heart sink. How have I managed to screw this up? How is this my fault, when I’ve done the same thing Taylor always does to me?

He’s rapidly vanishing, and against my better judgment, I know I have to chase after him. For years, I’ve kept a cool reserve when it comes to Taylor, refusing to let him see how much it truly hurts me that he is incapable of honoring the commitment I thought we’d made to each other. He must know, though. I do nothing to hide my anger every time he stays out too late and flirts too much, but I never dare let him see the truth—that it’s all about my insecurity. 

If there’s any hope of keeping him now, I fear I may have to break down that last wall between us.

I chase after him like a pathetic little puppy dog with its tail tucked between its legs. He bobs and weaves through the crowd, but if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s keeping my eye on Taylor. I don’t lose sight of him at all, finally catching up with him a few feet down the sidewalk outside the club.

“Taylor!” I call out. “Tay, stop. Don’t fucking do this.”

“Don’t do what?” He asks, spinning around. “You’re really going to act like I’m the one who did something wrong here?”

“You’re really going to act like you haven’t?” I shoot back. “Tonight and every other night, every single club we go to, every party… you’re going to ignore all of those compared to this one time for me?”

Taylor takes a few long strides toward me. “When have you actually seen me do anything like that, Zac? Flirt, yes. Stand too close, dance a little too suggestively. Sure. But when have you ever _actually_ seen me with someone else?”

I stare at him. His questions make my head spin, and I don’t have an answer for him. The more I try to think about it, try to focus on all the times he’s made me so angry that I wanted to hurt him, punish him, but they all blur together in my memory.

“Answer me, Zac,” he says. “When have I ever, honestly, been with anyone but you?”

“Never,” I reply as realization washes over me. “Never, Tay.”

“Never,” he repeats. “It has always, only been you. Ever since our first time. Only you.”

There’s a part of me that finds this completely unbelievable, but the look in his eyes tells me that he isn’t lying. I have so many questions for him, but the only one I can manage to voice is, “Why?”

“It was just a game, wasn’t it?” Taylor asks, but there’s a catch in his voice, like he’s finally realizing it’s been anything but a game to me. “It seemed like, like you… enjoyed this idea that I was this big slut who always came home to you. Who wanted you more than anyone else. And I liked how aggressive it made you.”

“A game,” I repeat. “It was a fucking game.”

Taylor opens his mouth to speak again, but no words come out. That’s only partially because his collar is in my hand, and I’m dragging him into an alley. I can’t do this in public. I don’t know if I _want_ to do this at all, but now that it’s begun, I don’t see a way to stop it.

“A fucking game,” I repeat, shoving him against the brick wall of the building. “I wanted you. I want you. I—god, it makes me so fucking sick to watch the way you act, and you’re… you’re doing it to _make_ me feel that way?”

“No,” Tay replies. “I mean, yes, but not—not to make you sick. To make you fight for me. To make you _take_ me. Make me yours.”

“And I thought I was the fucked up one,” I reply weakly. My hand falls away from his collar and I lay my head on his shoulder. “I guess we really deserve each other, huh?”

“I guess we do.” Taylor laughs weakly. “And Zac, I… I’m so fucking sorry. I thought we were on the same page. I thought you knew.”

“Just don’t ever fucking do it again,” I reply, not sure I can fully accept his apology just yet. For years and years, I thought I knew where I stood with him. Now I have no clue. It’s going to take a long time to accept that change, even if it is, all things considered, a good one.

I’m not ready to think about all of that yet, though. I still need to make him hurt, just a little, so that maybe he’ll understand all the pain he’s caused me. I sink my teeth into his neck, needing to hurt him, to mark him. 

“I’m yours,” He whispers. 

I pull back and survey the damage, a perfect impression of my front teeth and a tiny line of blood against his milky skin. 

“Mine,” I repeat. For once, I believe it, and I like the way it sounds.


End file.
